In summer '63 I was staying alive
hanging at the races, hoping to drive
When they were done with the weekend and loading the cars
I couldn't get a pass so I went to the bar

I'm up in the corner nursing a beer
who should come laughing and joking in here
but Bobby Borwn, the winer of the sports car race
with some friends and a girl, man, she lit up the place

Bobby was a wild boy - one summer
he knocked down a motel wall with a hammer
He'd do anything - one night for a bet
he raced through the cornfields in a Corvette

I thought it's got to be a thrill to be like that
with the beautiful girl and be king of the track
But the truth is when all was said and done
it was his Cobra I wanted - the car was the one
it was his Cobra I wanted - the car was the one
The car was the one - the car was the one